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Stories by an Eight Year Old
I wrote these stories when I was eight years old; don't blame me if they're pretty rubbish. Oh and none of them are finished yet. I haven't decided but I may choose to re-write some of these. Mistpaw's Mission Peter grunted. “A cat?” he asked. “Yes,” said Mrs. Cooper. “Boring!” Peter grunted. Peter picked up the kitten. It was about 2 weeks by now. He stormed off, and as he got to the edge of the forest, dropped the cat. “Go furball!” he yelled, “Now or be locked up in the basement.” The kitten squealed and happy to be free it scampered round in a circle happily. “Now furball!!” yelled Peter as he picked up a stone and throwing it at the kitten. The kitten went down low to the ground and yelped for help. “Don’t come back!” screamed Peter as he ran at it once more. He roared and then ran off. The kitten leaped up in the air but as it got back to the ground lost footing and tumbled over. The kitten was grey and white. It had amber eyes with a tint of mischief. He cried for help, this time more urgent. “Here that?” asked a she-cat. “Yep!” answered a tom. A black she-cat came bounding out of the trees, followed by a handsome ginger tabby. “Hello little one. Need any help?” The she-cat’s tummy was swollen. She had kitted recently. The kitten sneezed. “They’re horrible! They tried to kill me!!” yelped the kitten. “Who?” asked the tom. “The twoleg’s.” whimpered the kit. “Come on,” meowed the she-cat as she picked the kit up by the scruff of his neck. “Greystar?” meowed the tomcat. “Ah,” the old she-cat meowed when she stepped out of a den. It appeared to be an old twoleg play hut. “I will look after him?” offered the she-cat. “Thank you, Blackice,” she meowed. Blackice nodded. “Redfire will you bring my kits their fresh-kill?” asked Blackice. “Yes,” mewed Redfire, and he padded up the clearing. Blackice took the grey and white kit into the den. There was a hole at the other side. It looked as if the cats had dug a hole to live in just as meercat’s do. She slipped into the den and straight ahead. She slipped through a narrow edge and into a clearing were cats and there young slept. Blackice padded over to her kits and gave them all a quick lick. These kits where also about 2 months. “Kits I will be looking after this handsome young tom here. You will have to be nice to him,” meowed Blackice. The kittens nodded. “I can’t wait to be an apprentice!!” squealed a kit. “What’s an appentice?” asked the grey and white kit. “Apprentice’s are trained to be warriors. So they can chase of kittypet’s!” meowed Blackice, “You will all become apprentices tomorrow.” The grey and white kitten squealed and scampered around in a circle. But he soon fell down on top of one of the other kits. Redfire came with some fresh-kill for the kittens. Suddenly all of the kittens yelped, cried and squealed as Redfire came with the kill. “Now! Now! Now!” cried the kits. Redfire dropped the mice down beside Blackice. She gave the kittens one each and helped them rip them open. When they had finished they heard a yowl and everybody scampered up and out of the tunnel. They sat around High Rock where Greystar sat. “Blackice’s 4 kits are all ready to become apprentice’s,” meowed Greystar, “All of you come up including the newest one.”� The grey and white kit had mouse all over his face and streaked down his back. He had it all over his mouth, around his eyes, on his nose, on the tip of his ears and on his eyebrows, whiskers and cheeks. Blackice bent down to lick it off of the grey and white kit but it had already scampered off. The cats let out a howl of laughter as the grey and white kitten sat beside the others. “These kits will now be known as, Blossompaw, Coldpaw, Chedderpaw and-“ Greynight paused as she got to the grey and white kit. “Mistpaw.” “Now Blossompaw your mentor, Willowpelt. Coldpaw, Cobblestone. Chedderpaw, Bigear. And Mistpaw, Tigerheart.” Tigerheart came to touch noses with his apprentice but touched his apprentice touched his chin instead. “I’m thirsty,” complained Mistpaw before they went back to the den for the night. “There’s a stream that runs through the tunnel,” meowed Blackice. Mistpaw grumbled but followed Blackice. Blackice led them to where all the apprentices’ slept. “Here,” meowed Blackice and she gave them one last lick before padding over to the Warriors’ den. Mistpaw looked back and fourth but he couldn’t find the stream. He took a paw step back and tumbled backwards into the stream. He hauled himself out and curled round so he was leaning on another cat. The she-cat grumbled but stayed put. Mistpaw closed his eyes tight. “YAW-AW-AW!!!” cried Mistpelt. Mistpelt woke up, his fur on end. He cried again but everybody was sleeping. He went out on to the narrow path and yowled at the top of his mouth. “Ssssh!” scolded Greystar. Mistpaw bent down low. “Get back to sleep!” she hissed. Mistpaw went up and nuzzled Greystar’s face he was trembling slightly. “But the bull will eat me!” whimpered Mistpaw. “Oh sweetie it was just a bad dream,” Greystar reassured. “But he’ll eat us all!” whimpered Mistpaw. “Tigerheart will scare it off,” meowed Greystar. A few minutes later Tigerheart came out of the Warriors’ den and went outside. He came back with his claws stained with mouse. “Yey!!!” yowled Mistpaw. Tigerheart looked pleased. “Come on get some sleep.” Meowed Tigerheart. “Can you come with me?” Mistpaw asked Greystar. “You come with me,” mewed Greystar. Mistpaw followed Greystar into her den. He curled round beside Greystar. Mistpaw closed his eyes very tightly and yawned loudly. When Mistpaw woke he was whimpering and his fur stood on end. He leaped up and out of the tunnel. A few minutes later Tigerheart emerged. “Ready?” he asked. Mistpaw leaped up in the air. “Come on then!” They ran out of the camp. “What are we doing? What are we doing?? What are we doing???” yelled Mistpaw. “A tour of the forest.” A ginger she-cat with a neatly groomed coat jumped up and over the fence easily. “Firepaw!” called a solid black tomcat, “Get the grey and white kitten!” “Blackscar I don’t know of any grey and white kitten!” yowled Firepaw. “Yes you do now go!” “Just because you are my uncle I don’t do as you say, but very well.”� “Go!!” “I’m on hunting duty I can’t!” Firepaw narrowed her eyes and pounced after a rabbit. She caught it easily, and then up and over the fence she dashed. Firepaw stopped as she heard Blackscar let out a painful yowl. She ignored it and trotted back to the clearing in the middle of the forest where she settled down to eat her catch. Mistpaw dashed after Tigerheart as he led the way back to camp. Mistpaw was fast, really fast. But Tigerheart was faster. He chased after him until they got back to camp. Mistpaw jumped on top of Tigerheart. Although he was fast, he was not heavy he was light. Mistpaw ran back into the apprentices’ den and piled on top of the she-cat. Loads of other cats joined in and by the time most of the cats where on Mistpaw was well and truly squished. “MAL-AL-AL-AW!!” yowled Mistpaw coughing up the mouse he had eaten last night. The cats jumped back off and Mistpaw ran round in a circle and collapsed on top of a chubby tomcat. The tomcat hissed. Mistpaw cried. “Hey!” hissed a familiar voice. It was Blossompaw. “Let him go fatty!” “Grrrrr!” yowled the chubby cat. “Chedderpaw!” Chedderpaw and Blossompaw dug their claws in until he let go of Mistpaw. “YAW-AW-AW!!” cried Mistpelt. A pretty ginger she-cat came up and nuzzled him. “That’s my mean brother, Clawpaw.” She hissed under her breath. Mistpaw inhaled her sweet scent. He felt dazed for a moment. “Who’s your mentor?” she asked. “Tigerheart,” purred Mistpaw. “Good, Whitepelt says Tigerheart and you will be coming along tomorrow. By the way I’m Firepaw,” purred Firepaw. “Come share this mouse with me!” offered Firepaw. “Sure!” purred Mistpaw. He padded over to sit beside her. Mistpaw ate half of the mouse. But he made even more mess then last time. He licked his lips. “Yummy!” purred Mistpaw. He jumped up in the air and ran back into the apprentices’ den. Firepaw followed him slowly. 2 moons later Mistpaw crept away, he was on hunting duty. He stopped in his tracks as he saw Firepaw. “Blackscar I can’t do it! I love Mistpaw,” she moaned. “Go on!” “My love or my death,” mumbled Firepaw. “I know which one I’m going to choose.” With that she leaped away and bashed right into Mistpaw. “Quick!” Firepaw grabbed the scruff of Mistpaw’s neck as she ran past dragging Mistpaw behind. =